


Last of Our Kind

by Sicklywrites



Series: Elena Cousland [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, First Time, Fluff, NSFW, Slow Burn, Smut, Virginity, accidentally fucking deleted the whole work and have to repost it, god damn it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-09 03:47:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 12,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4332690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sicklywrites/pseuds/Sicklywrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The shameless fluff story of Elena 'Ellie' Cousland and Alistair Theirin. Just fluff and smut and relationship development of the cuties!<br/>Previously called 'Alibear'<br/>(Repost, since I accidentally deleted the original like the idiot I am.)<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hurt

“You’re the only one that seems real in all of this.” Elena said quietly. She was just sitting there, thinking about her new companions and how uncertain everything was. Part of her wanted to keep from speaking to any of them, so that if anything were to happen, it wouldn’t hurt. But it always did, she knew. People she’d only spoken to once, when she saw them fall for her castle and for her family, _it hurt._ To see men she’d known for less than a day die for the ritual, _it hurt._

“What do you mean?” Alistair asked, sitting on the other side of the fire. He looked so innocent for a warrior; his arms crossed over his knees, and those sad eyes watching her from across the fire. For a moment she watched the embers float up between them into the night air, and scratched absently behind her mabari’s—Cujo’s—ear.

“I don’t trust Morrigan, because she scares me... Leliana is too certain she’s the Maker’s chosen... and Sten is so serious and humourless.”

Alistair was pulling apart a leaf bit by bit, throwing little pieces of it into the fire and watching them curl and burn. He didn’t know what to say. How does someone reassure a woman in her situation? She’d just lost her entire family, her castle, everything that came with it. Now she was just a Warden with a dog. Or at least, that’s how she saw it. All the while he felt like an idiot for ever complaining about Duncan.

She scrunched up her hand in the mabari’s fur and looked up at him.

“You’re just like me, I suppose.”

Alistair rubbed the back of his neck. They were alike in more ways than she knew. He didn’t quite know how to drop the royalty subject on her, or if she’d even talk to him once he did. However he knew that the longer he waited, the stupider it’d seem, and the harder it’d hit.

“So, the more boring I am the better?” he smirked. Elena shook her head, a smile on her lips.

“You’re far from boring.” she said, “I don’t think the situation we’re in could be further from boring.”

She sighed, and all of a sudden the light around her smile faded.

“I’d be okay, I think, if I knew where Fergus was.” she said, shaking her head. “If he’s alive, he probably doesn’t know about his wife and son.”

“You had a nephew?” Alistair asked, his heart sinking as soon as it came out of his mouth. Why would he ask that with such a clear _had_? Elena nodded. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have…” he apologised.

“I was going to teach him how to hold a sword.” she said, pronouncing the ‘w’ as Oren once did.

In battle she was fearless, a bow in her hands like she’d been born it with it drawn and ready. But now she was just a person again, quietly mourning her family. How could he possibly comfort someone dealing with that?

It’s all he wanted to do.


	2. Alibear

Wynne was stirring some kind of soup, something she said everyone would like. A thank you for being so supportive of the mages, and for taking her in with open arms. Elena watched from the ground, exhausted, with Cujo as her pillow, and her arms crossed over her chest for warmth. Without her noticing, Alistair sat down next to her in the grass, giving a reassuring half smile to the mabari as his head rose at the sound.

“It’s alright, he won’t hurt you unless I say so.” Elena said sweetly, eyes wandering back over to Wynne.

“I’d prefer not to have my throat torn out.”

Cujo rested his head back down.

“You’re in the wrong business.” Elena joked.

Elena was amazed at how normal he was. The bastard prince, as she’d recently found out. But he was nothing like the people she once knew, who stuck their noses up high and paid the utmost attention to how they held their forks. He was just Alistair. _He_ was just amazed that she saw him no differently, and didn’t even stop talking to him. He expected some kind of argument, an angry _why didn’t you tell me?_ But nothing. A little surprised of course, but she might as well have shrugged.

“How you doing?” she asked, turning back to him. In this light he could see every cute little curve of her face, the freckles and the big green eyes that in no way suited her ruthless fighter demeanour during combat. That said, neither did her child-like laughter, nor the way her nose scrunched up when she was thinking.

“I’ve come to thank you, actually.” Alistair said, making eye contact in a way he hadn’t very often. Not lately, at least.

“For what?”

“Elena...” he began. She stopped him.

“Ellie.” she corrected. “I… like it better.”

He’d never called her that before, mostly because he felt it was impolite. She was all sorts of things, like Lady Cousland and Warden Elena – never just Ellie.

“...E-Ellie.” he muttered as if he’d forgotten how to speak. She smiled and his heart jumped a little.

“How long have _you_ been talking?” she asked. He chuckled.

“I came to thank you for saving Connor.” he said, “I know it would have been easier to just kill him, or sacrifice Isolde. Just... thank you.”

She patted his leg. Not suggestively, but it might as well have been the way his every sense focused on it.

“Even if it didn’t mean anything to you, I would have. Connor’s just a kid.”

There was a moment of quiet in which neither of them knew what to do or say. Ellie put her arm back over herself, and Alistair cautiously scratched behind Cujo’s ear.

“Dinner’s ready.” Wynne announced, dipping a ladle into the soup and pouring the first bowls. Alistair was first to arrive like a hungry puppy, which Ellie found, once again, to be cute. She hated how often that word popped up in her head, and how much it had to do with him.

“Thank you, Wynne.” Alistair said, taking the first bowl gratefully. Ellie was about to get up to get hers until Alistair arrived holding two.

“One for you, my lady.” he said, placing it carefully in her hands.

“Has to be better than your cooking, right?” she joked. He laughed, plonking himself back down beside her.

“Right.”

They sat together eating dinner, barely talking. Wynne and Sten were having a conversation, mostly questions Wynne was asking about his people. Morrigan was eating something of her own at her separate fire, whilst Leliana and Zevran ate alone. Leliana was reading, brow furrowed.

“Must be an interesting book.” Alistair said, lying back, propped up on his elbow. He tipped the bowl up and drank the last of the soup, then put the bowl to Cujo’s nose so he could lap up the last drips. Ellie couldn’t help but admire anyone that was nice to her dog.

“I have a question for you, Alistair.” Ellie said, Cujo still under her head like a pillow. He turned to face her, interested as always in what she had to say.

“Yeeee _eeee_ ss?”

“Why didn’t you tell me about the royalty thing?” she asked. His smile drifted away.

“You... never asked?”

She crinkled her nose. Damn, it was cute. _Again._

“I suppose I understand.” she said. “It’s just that with me being noble, I thought you might feel more comfortable telling me.”

The way she said ‘noble’ he just _knew_ she cared about as much about her roots as he did for his. He liked that about her. He lied down on the ground with his arm under his head, looking up at the darkening sky.

“I don’t tell anyone because I just want them to like me for being Alistair, and not the prince.” he said, frowning. “Hence why I told you I was raised by dogs.”

“The _bastard_ prince.” she grinned, spoon at her lips. He chuckled, wiping his mouth to make sure nothing from the soup was left in the scruff on his chin.

“It’s quite the title.”

She rolled over onto her side, looking at him with such understanding eyes.

“I liked you as soon as you said you’d dance for me in a dress.” she said. “That has nothing to do with you being a prince.”

He felt his usual nervousness grow inside him, pulling at his heart and at his throat. He swallowed his anxiety, blinking like an idiot.

“Only if it’s a pretty dress.” he grinned. “But… please, don’t call me prince.”

He found it funny how easily she threw around the word. It was even a little comforting.

“What about Ali?” she offered up, snickering, “Or Ali-bear.”

“Ali-bear!?” he said a little too loudly, bursting into laughter.

Leliana looked over her book curiously, only to see the two Wardens lying in the grass together like old friends. It was heart-warming, she thought. They would make an awfully cute couple.


	3. Admiration

“I see it now,” Zevran began, spreading his fingers and waving his hands slowly in opposite directions as if a picture had appeared in front of him. He smirked devilishly, like always, and Alistair didn’t even have to know what he was talking about before he was embarrassed.

“What?”

“You and Elena, the two last remaining Grey Wardens, confessing your love for one another.”

Alistair’s eyes widened at the elf. He was new to their group of misfits, slithering into it like a snake.

“Please, stop.”

Zevran laughed, resting his arms back on his thighs.

“To begin with I thought you were actually a couple. I had to ask the bard.”

“Maker, why would you think we were a couple?” Alistair asked. It was supposed to be rhetorical, but he found himself curious as to how he would reply.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” he grinned, “You and the Warden are inseparable. She takes you on every mission, and you are the first one she goes to when she needs advice. You also have supper together every night.”

All of these things were true. There was no denying it.

“And then there’s you,” Zevran went on, “getting all quiet and swooning while she’s not looking. You admire her, do you not?”

“Of course I admire her, she’s a great woman. She’s doing a lot better at this than I am.”

“No, no, no, I mean... _admire_ her _._ ”

Alistair’s cheeks were beginning to grow hot. Yet another thing he could not hide.

“She’s an attractive woman, Alistair.” he said, “Curly hair like a princess, but cut shorter like a warrior. Little, like an elven woman, and yet, not nearly as innocent as she appears.”

“Now it sounds like _you’re_ admiring her.” Alistair retorted, but it came out sounding far too jealous. Zevran absolutely caught onto it, and his already wide smile nearly went ear to ear.

“A word of advice, however, my friend.” he said, leaning back casually, far more comfortable. “You better make it clear.”

“Make what clear?” Alistair growled, “I’m not interested in romance. We have other things to think about, like the Blight, and—”

“There’s always time for romance, friend.” Zevran said, nudging him gently.


	4. What Was Lost

Saying that Elena Cousland was in a foul mood wouldn’t be the half of it. She was livid. She and Alistair had gone to Denerim, by his request, to meet his long lost sister. In hindsight, both of them regretted ever going.

_“Some tart, following after his riches, I expect!”_

So much of her wanted to drive an arrow into Goldanna’s chest, and in honesty, she probably would have if not for the children she was caring for, and her relation to Alistair. She thought of her father scolding her about her temper with that smile on his lips, and buried her face in her arms she’d folded over her knees.

 _“Hey! Don’t you talk to her like that!”_ Alistair had retorted quickly, angrier than she’d ever heard him – angrier than all the times he’d sworn and yelled at the darkspawn. She never expected him to argue against anyone, especially not his sister, and _especially_ not for her.

She was curled up like a ball by the fire, her heart panging with pain, and her eyes stinging as she held back tears. Such a short time ago, if she was feeling like this, she could simply wrap her arms around her mother or father, or joke around with Fergus until it all went away. The thought was like a stab through the ribs. Even after the Blight, if she managed to end it at all, there was no going home. Home didn’t even exist anymore, and it couldn’t be won back. Home was just tents and campfires, the occasional tavern. Still, she felt as if she were right in the castle when she closed her eyes, face partly buried in Cujo’s fur.

Alistair strolled over, unaware that anything was wrong, with a bowl in each hand. Cujo, as always, lifted his head and sniffed at the air.

“Leliana made this Orlesian dish.” he said, sitting down beside her. “It smells like she made it with flowers. Doesn’t it, boy?”

Cujo’s tail wagged briefly.

Elena rested her head on its side over her arms, blinking wearily in Alistair’s direction. There was nothing appealing about food at the moment.

“I’m not hungry.” she sighed. He noticed the wetness at her eyes and was shocked, nearly spilling his food from the bowl.

“Maker, are you okay?”

Ellie sat up straight and took the bowl set down for her. _Eat it all, dear. There are people who would kill to have this food._ Her mother’s voice still rung in her ears. _We’re very privileged to have this._

“Don’t worry about it.” she said, stirring her fork around in her dinner. Cujo curled up at her side and put his head on her lap, giving her the cutest puppy dog eyes he could manage. “You miss getting into the larder?”

Cujo whimpered.

“Your family?” Alistair said quietly, not yet touching his own food. “Was he a troublesome dog with them?”

Elena took a deep breath, smiling faintly.

“The day before Duncan took me, he was in nan’s kitchen. She was screaming that he was into the food, but he was really just hunting down a bunch of rats that’d gotten in. He was being a good boy, telling us they were there. He’d made a mess but he never ate anything.” she explained, continuing to stroke his head. “Sir Gilmore and I…” she paused, remembering him. Yet another person she would never speak to again. And he died for her, no less. For the ‘great Couslands’.

“You don’t have to talk about it.” Alistair said, nervously twizzling his fork. He hadn’t heard of these people, which was just another reminder of what Elena was before a Grey Warden. Behind her there were family and friends he never knew, and never would.

“Fergus used to tease Gilmore and I, like we were ever a couple.”

Alistair laughed nervously, jealously peeping out in his tone. He cleared his throat and corrected himself. _Don’t be jealous over a dead man._

“I wish nan was nicer to the elves.” Ellie continued unaware, “I wish… things had gone better. Even just a little bit.”

Tears threatened her eyes once more, so she distracted herself with her dinner. She was debating whether vomiting or crying in front of Alistair and the camp was more embarrassing.

“You don’t have to hold back, you know.” Alistair said in a quiet, comforting tone. She nodded, but didn’t say a word. A moment later he was adjusting his position on the ground to get more comfortable, accidentally elbowing her in the arm.

“Sorry!” he frantically apologized. She smirked, and he could feel the heat returning to his cheeks, even when his whole face was numb from the freezing night air.

“I think my mother would have liked you.” she said, finally bringing a bit of food to her lips. Alistair continued to get comfortable, careful not to accidentally hit her again.

“Why’s that?” he smiled.

“I don’t know.” she said. “My mother wasn’t what you’d expect. She was funny and strong. She fought beside me against Howe’s men before I left.” she paused and looked to him. “I think she’d find you funny.”

“She sounds like she was a good woman.” he nodded, “With good taste.” he added cheekily. Ellie had to appreciate how he relieved the pain. She couldn’t tell anyone else about her family. She _tried_ with Leliana, but all the sister could say was ‘I’m so sorry’ and ‘That’s horrible.’ Ellie had grown admire her, but there was nothing else quite like having a nice, peaceful conversation with Alistair.

“What about your father?” he asked.

“He would think you were a ‘nice boy.’” she said with a tiny little smile. She almost mentioned how her father would tease her about him. _It’s so obvious_ , he’d say, and laugh with Fergus about it. It made her quiet as the thought ran through her mind. It turned quickly into an image of Alistair shaking hands with them, overstating that Ellie was _excellent_ warden. She frowned, hiding it behind nervous the wipe of her face.

“So what about your family? The wild dogs? Your mother, the bitch?” she jested, taking her mind off of her own struggles. Alistair chuckled and swept his hand over his hair.

“Well, you’ve already met my lovely sister, and was she ever so fond of you.” he said, voice turning up sarcastically.

“Oh, yes, of course.” Elena agreed with equal sarcasm. Somehow he took all the pain out of it, and she had no idea how. Laying down, curly hair tangled amongst the grass, she watched the stars. It was something she never did at home, and she really wished she had, back when there was no darkspawn to interrupt.

“When Duncan died… you comforted me.” Alistair said carefully. “I should be there for you. Really, you’ve lost… far more than I.”

She watched him for a moment, frowning.

“That doesn’t change anything, Alistair. You don’t have to comfort me.” she argued quietly. His brow stiffened sternly.

“You’re right, it doesn’t, and I don’t have to. But I still want to help.” he said. “Or… try.”

She couldn’t think of the words to respond. She was trying to make the point that regardless of how much they’d lost in comparison to one another, he should be able to come to her with his issues, no matter how trivial they seemed in comparison. How he turned it around to make her blush, she’d never know.

A question spun around in her head, echoing, over and over. It was all she could think about, which was stupid, considering how many other things she should have been worrying about. She looked to her side where Alistair was eating, and in the middle of the Blight, wondered how he’d react if she leant over to kiss his cheek. She sighed. She’d easier face the Archdemon tonight than muster up the courage to do anything like that.


	5. Lampposts in Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Have *you* ever licked a lamp post in winter?

“So…” Ellie had murmured. A single tankard of some Antivan booze Zevran had given her, and both of the remaining Wardens were tipsy, sitting at the bar in one of Denerim’s taverns. It was considered, very loosely, a night off. Ellie’s head was spinning slightly, the world around her seeming dream like. Beside her, Alistair seemed much the same.

 _“Hmmm?”_ Alistair chimed, reminding Ellie that she’d spoken.

“Oh, right.” she said, “So, you were raised in the Chantry?”

“Mm-hmm.” Alistair responded, a little giddy.

“Does that mean… you’ve never…?”

He became aware of what she was saying, which she could see clearly in his eyes. A flicker of a smile appeared in the corners of his lips.

“Never…? Never what, had a good pair of shoes?”

Ellie giggled, trying to cover up how silly she felt with her hand over her mouth.

“You know what I mean.”

“I’m not sure I do.” he smirked, “Have I never… seen a basilisk? Eaten jellied ham? Licked a lamppost in winter?”

Ellie was giggling like a fool, blushing from the alcohol.

“You’re just making fun of me!”

“Make fun of _you_ dear lady? Perish the thought!” he grinned, “Tell me. Have _you_ ever licked a _lamppost_ in _winter_?”

He said it with such dramatic effect, waggling his eyebrows at her.

“Why no, my prince, I haven’t.” she answered. He laughed, quietly adoring how she hid her smile, and how her eyes sparkled and nose crinkled.

“Well, I myself haven’t had the pleasure.” he said, putting extra emphasis – and nervousness – on ‘pleasure.’ “Not that I haven’t thought about it of course. But… you know.”

“Not got the proper parts?” Ellie joked, and this time it was Alistair’s turn to hide his face. He rubbed his cheek anxiously.

“You wound me!” he chuckled, “But no it’s just… the Chantry isn’t exactly the place for rambunctious boys, is it? I was taught to be a gentleman, especially in the presence of beautiful women such as yourself.”

Ellie’s giggling came to a slow halt as the words registered in her head. Quite terrified, in all truth, she looked to him curiously.

“You think I’m beautiful?”

Alistair took a sharp gasp, his eyes widening. Turns out, the words had registered for her quicker than they had for him.

“Did I say beautiful?” he laughed in the most awkward way possible, “I meant, uh—”

Laughter erupted in the tavern over something neither of them were paying attention to, a bunch of drunken idiots at a table behind them smacking each other’s backs and raising their cups. Alistair took that as a welcome distraction to his own idiocy, and hoped that somehow Ellie had forgotten what he’d said within those few seconds.

She didn’t. She’d been called beautiful her whole life, whether that be from family members, strangers, or potential husbands she barely knew. Half of those times she knew it was a lie. Now, Alistair had said it, and her heart was fluttering wildly inside her chest. Blushing furiously, she scrunched up her hand over her mouth and looked away, smiling behind her fist. Before she could say anything about how handsome he was—how his humour made her feel, how even his nose was cute, how his eyes shone, and how his smile made everything worth it—a bartender cut between them.

“Closing time.”


	6. Almost

Leliana stood over Alistair as he sharpened his sword, waiting until eventually he looked up at her, puppy eyes and all. Her arms were crossed, and she looked both angered and concerned.

“…Yes?” he mumbled, hand pausing over his blade.

“I heard what you said at the tavern.” Leliana said with a surprising lack of a smile. “You’re a _terrible_ flirt.”

Alistair’s heart crashed against his chest, embarrassment burning into his cheeks. _Go away, go away!_ He repeated it over and over in his head, but she was still there, looming over him like a bad memory.

“Who said I was flirting?” he said, eyes straining to make contact.

“ _‘A beautiful woman like you,_ ’ he says, and then takes it back!” she growled, “It was painful to watch.”

He shook his head and looked down at his sword, about to throw the whetstone in frustration. He could say he was a gentleman all he wanted, but the truth was being horribly inexperienced, and giddy every time Ellie was near. All he ever wanted to do was just talk to her with all the honesty in the world, tell her that she was strong, gorgeous woman, and kiss her like he’d done it a hundred times before. In truth, he didn’t even know what he’d do with his lips if they ever got close enough. They probably wouldn’t get the chance before he was running in the other direction.

“I’m not trying to flirt with her.” he lied, the image of him holding her still lingering in his mind. It seemed awkward and vague. Like a child he tried to cover it up, as if Leliana could read his thoughts.

And it was _her_ fault that Alistair was out there with Ellie in the woods. _“You can’t go out there alone!”_ the bard had said with concern, but a knowing smile. _“Why don’t you bring Alistair with you?”_

He was quietly wandering around picking up twigs and fallen branches while Ellie chopped at the logs, his tunic falling loose from is neck every time he leant down. Ellie would never admit it to herself, but she quite enjoyed the discreet look over to him, getting a short glimpse of what was under that shirt.

“What do you think about Zevran?” Alistair asked as he stood up straight, piling another twig onto his armful.

“I’m not sure actually.” she said. Alistair’s paranoid heart sunk. _Of course! Ellie secretly loves Zevran! How could she not – he’s charming, confident, handsome—_ “I still don’t know if I can trust him.”

Alistair’s head was spinning. Trust him with what? A relationship?

Ellie noticed how quiet he was, continuing to slowly pick up twigs but clearly distracted.

“Why do you ask?” she questioned.

“Just, uh, juicy gossip.” he smiled.

“Juicy gossip is it?” she joked, trying to work out what his motive was. “I’ll only tell you the gossip if you return the favour.”

“Just try and stop me.” he laughed.

“So, no jealous undertone to you asking?”

He dropped half his stack of wood like the klutz he was, muttering something under his breath.

“Jealous of what?” he laughed nervously, picking up what he’d dropped. “You can have more than one friend.”

Ellie raised an eyebrow at him, never looking so smug. Alistair swallowed the terrified lump that was growing in his throat and looked away to hide the embarrassment.

“I have something to give you.” Ellie said, dipping her hand into her back pocket. When he looked back his eyes were immediately drawn to her bottom, and darted away quickly once he realised what he was doing. “I didn’t know when to give you this, or if you’d want it back at all… I should have shown you sooner, but…”

She held out an amulet, more specifically, his mother’s amulet. He’d mentioned it a while ago, how he’d thrown it at the wall and broken it, then deeply regretted it ever since. Only a week ago had she found it in the Arl’s study, repaired like new. Alistair let out a gentle gasp in surprise, approaching her just _hoping_ it really was what he thought it was.

“I’m not holding out just a random amulet, am I? I thought—” Ellie began, but Alistair interrupted by taking it from her tiny hand and holding it in the last of the sunlight.

“Where did you find it?” he said, admiring it with a weak little smile. “Why didn’t you give it to me earlier?”

“In the Arl’s study.” she said a little shamefully. “I… didn’t want you to stress about it.”

“Nooo,” Alistair grinned, “I’m glad to have it. Eamon must have… found it and fixed it. Why would he do that?”

“He probably meant to give it to you.”

He could feel tears welling up in his eyes. All the things he’d done, all the things he said, and Eamon still cared about him.

“So… you really remembered me mentioning it?” Alistair said, trying to distract himself from the pain. Ellie nodded with a smile.

“Of course I did.”

 _“Wow.”_ he sighed, “I… really didn’t expect that. I’m so used to people not listening to me when I go on about things.”

Ellie resumed cutting the wood, tucking her hair behind her ears.

“Sorry, did you say something?”

Alistair laughed, “Oh, _har har!_ Such cruelty!”

She giggled like a fool, picking up the freshly cut logs. For a moment their eyes met, and neither of them knew how to look away. When their eyes met like that she simply forgot how to function.

Behind them, something moved within the woods. Whatever it was, it growled, and its footsteps were getting closer. Alistair quickly grabbed her by the arm before she even had the time to register what it was, tugging her away from their wood.

“Darkspawn!” he whispered. She patted at her belt, but no dagger. She scolded herself for not bringing at least _something_ to defend herself, and held onto his hand, running with him to a fallen tree. It was massive and jammed onto a rock face, leaving just enough hiding space to fit them both.

“Shit, shit, shit—” Ellie was panting once they’d stopped, wiping her hands on her pants to rid of the sweat and dirt.

“I’ve never heard you swear before.” Alistair whispered in return. _Maker,_ he was so close to her. Had the space been just a little bit smaller, their chests would have touched. She gazed up at him, never realizing quite how big he was in comparison to her much smaller figure. Outside, the darkspawn lurked, hunched over and snarling. They’d heard the logs hit the ground and the scattering of people, but they hadn’t worked out where the Wardens had gone yet.

Ellie breathed shallowly, no idea whether she enjoyed the claustrophobic space they shared or hated it. With anyone else, she wouldn’t have given it a second thought. She watched the darkspawn outside, oblivious to Alistair watching her with half lidded eyes.

“You’re… really pretty.” he said, his voice lower than a whisper. Suddenly, the darkspawn didn’t matter, and Ellie’s heart felt as if it might escape through her throat.

“Last time you said that, you took it back.” she said, her foot inching forward. Alistair looked at the ground, a lopsided smile on his face.

“I didn’t think you’d remember that.”

“I was flattered.”

He looked back up, eyes meeting with hers again.

“You were?”

“Until you took it back.” she said with the sweetest smile. He chuckled, anxiously wiping his hand over his mouth. He couldn’t quite handle how close they were, or how horrible the circumstances of them being close was. Darkspawn wasn’t exactly romantic, but it was almost worth it, just to be this close. Even for a moment.

“I really… like you.” he said, forgetting how to breathe and how to speak all at once. Instead, everything in him said to just _go._ Run with it. Spill everything he wanted to say, and maybe once they were out of this stupid enclosed space she’d forget about it. Even if she rejected him – even if she said that there was no way – he would know. But she just stared, looking weak and powerless, everything she wasn’t. He didn’t know how to talk to that beautiful face, but he started anyway.

“Every time I’m near you… my chest does this _thing_ and I don’t… I don’t know what I’m saying.”

“Keep saying it.” Ellie said, the corners of her lips quirking upwards. He wasn’t sure if continuing would mean relief or embarrassment, but that smile on her lips urged him on. He gulped.

“I care about you.” he said, squinting as if expecting a punch in the face. “I don’t know if I’m delusional… it could just be everything we’ve been through, but—”

He was stopped by the woman in front of her getting just a tiny bit closer, her smile softening. Bordering on shaking, his hand brushed against her arm. Even that slightest touch felt like too much, too fast, but she was still there.

His breath was stuttered when he tried to speak again, running his fingers down her arm to find her hand. _Kiss her._

“You are… so…”

There was a hand at his shoulder, and for half a second he thought it was her, until he hit the ground with a loud thud, forced to fall sideways out of where they’d hid. When his eyes opened it was nothing but a blur – Ellie kicking the darkspawn back, snatching its jagged dagger from its belt, and slashing its throat before the moment was over.

He grabbed at the shoulder he’d landed on, trying to get up, but before he even had the chance another hurlock had fallen to the ground beside him, gurgling and grabbing at the dagger left in its neck. Alistair stared, dazed, wondering how two hurlocks had just fallen to Ellie’s hand while he was there on the ground like a turtle on its back. Her hand reached his arm, tugging for him to get up.

“We have to get this wood back before more find us.” she said, almost stern. He grabbed her hand to be heaved up off the ground, when pain splintered through his shoulder all through his body. He growled, moving the neck of his tunic to see.

“Shit!” Ellie hissed, “It got you.”

Alistair moaned in protest as blood seeped from claw marks in his skin.

“Y-you’re right we should just get back.” he said, wiping the blood and dirt away. Ellie scowled down at the hurlocks, lifeless in the mud, and wandered back to camp as if nothing had happened. It only occurred to her once they returned that she’d forgotten the firewood.


	7. The Rose

“Where’s Ellie?” Alistair asked. Sten’s usual stern face didn’t express a hint of question. Right now, he liked that about the giant man.

“She has gone to gather firewood.” he said, firm voice as always. “She forgot to actually _bring it_ back the time before.”

Cujo arrived, sniffing around like he did at dinner time when he was looking for scraps. He’d already eaten Morrigan’s food tonight, and no one was sure if he did it because he felt like it, or because Ellie had hinted that he should.

Alistair had the rose tucked away in his hand and out of sight of Sten - not that Sten would understand, or care even if he did. Cujo went to nip at the flower before Alistair lifted it away and shushed the dog.

“Don’t eat it!” he scolded quietly. A tiny growl came out of the enormous dog. He’d been saving that flower for a while now, and the longer he held on to it the more terrified he became. He imagined Ellie pushing it back into his face, telling him he was a complete fool. She’d tell him they were nothing but friends, and that he was a laughing stock for even considering that a woman like _her_ would fall for a man like _him._ But Maker, he had fallen so hard.

He was shaking in his boots, but if he didn’t give it to her today the rose would begin to die off. It seemed like his last chance.

“You know, don’t you?” Alistair asked the mabari. “You know I feel like a bumbling idiot right now, don’t you? You’re clever.”

The dog barked in response, stub of a tail wagging. Of course he did.

“It’s for your master, okay? It’s—”

The rose was suddenly taken from Alistair’s hand in a quick snatch, Cujo running off with it clamped between his teeth before he even had the chance to realise what had happened.

“Shit!” he hissed, running after the war hound. From across the camp Morrigan was smiling at the sight.

Elena was in the woods with an axe in hand, almost done with the firewood, when she heard the huffing of both Alistair and Cujo, along with the running—and stumbling—sounds coming closer. They burst out from behind the trees, Alistair practically hopping after stubbing his toe through a pair of old boots. Ellie smiled, relaxing her shoulders.

“Oh! Ellie—” he said with a fake surprise, trying to distract her from the rose so obviously sticking out from the slobbery maw of the mabari. Cujo nudged at her thigh with his nose, stepping on her foot eagerly, enough to make her look down.

“What have you found, Cujo?” she asked in a friendly voice reserved only for her dog. Cujo barked happily when she took it, wagging his entire rear end in excitement. For a war hound he acted an awful lot like a puppy. Same thing could be said about Ellie, who could be killing darkspawn one minute, then giggling like a child the next.

Alistair stood stiffly next to a tree, hoping for some kind of hole to open up under his feet and swallow him, or for him to wake up with the rose still wholly intact and not covered in Cujo-slobber. At least there was no backing out of it now.

“A rose?” Ellie laughed, smirking at it in wonder.

“Ah, yes, the dog is very good at picking out flowers for you.” Alistair said far too quickly and nervously.

“Are you sweating, Alibear?” she asked. Maker, his cheeks were on fire. She hadn’t called him that since the night she first said it. Obviously it’d stuck in her head. It’d _definitely_ stuck in his.

“N-no?” he puffed, wiping sweat from his hairline. She was laughing, nose crinkled in the cutest of ways, something she did whenever she laughed.

“What’s the rose, Alistair? Your new weapon of choice?”

“Ah, yes!” he grinned, “Watch as I thrash our enemies with the mighty power of floral arrangements! Feel my thorns, darkspawn! I will overpower you with my rosy scent!”

Elena laughed like an idiot, expecting nothing less from him.He laughed along with her for a moment, before going back into awkward, nervous territory. She was clearly nervous as well, even just a little bit. She didn’t know what to do with it in her hand.

“No, uh, really… I found it. All... by itself.” he said. She didn’t know what to say, or even how to speak. Nobody had ever given her flowers before, not unless it was just out of politeness, or to suggest an arranged marriage. She knew that he would never have given her a rose unless it meant something, and that made her heart pound against her ribcage, ready to burst.

He gulped. He had this all planned out, and now it was a blur.

“I picked it in Lothering...” he said, rubbing his hands together. Her eyes lingered at his hands, watching how his fingers intertwined together. Her heart skipped another little beat. “I thought, what a beautiful thing in amongst all this despair and darkness...”

“Alistair-” she tried to interrupt.

“Hang on a second, otherwise I’m going to forget what I was about to say.” he chuckled. “…I’m trying to say that when I look at you, I think the same thing. You’re... the one thing that gives me hope in all this. I just wanted you to know.”

She approached him, smiling, just as nervous.

“Keep it.” he said, “It’ll... die, but...”

“Thank you.” she interrupted, successfully this time. He was silenced, a lopsided smile on his lips that he couldn’t retain.

They stood a little too close, stiff and unsure.

“I’m glad you like it.” he said goofily. Reluctantly, he stepped back, forcing himself to be a gentleman. “We should get back to camp.”

“Yeah… I suppose.”

Neither of them could keep the smiles off their faces as they walked back. This time, with the firewood.


	8. Another Almost

Elena sat in her tent massaging the aches out of her feet, Cujo’s head on her lap. He was nuzzling at her hip, persistently placing his paw up on her leg.

“What’s wrong?” she yawned quietly, expecting that since she could hear nothing but the crackling of the campfire, everyone else was asleep. Cujo whimpered. She didn’t really have to ask. Cujo had always done this, even since he was a puppy. If Ellie was tense, or sad in any way, he would poke at her with his paw and whine. Either that, or jump at her face wagging his entire backside, giving all the wet, sloppy kisses he knew she deserved.

* * *

Alistair couldn’t sleep. No way in the world. Instead, he stared at the roof of his tent listening to the occasional whimper of Cujo in the tent across from his. All it did was reinforce the thoughts in his mind – Ellie. He and Ellie, standing in that tiny little space. He and Ellie, their hands touching. He and Ellie, hearts racing, moments from a kiss if not for those fucking hurlocks. And it was all forgotten when they walked out. He couldn’t stand it. Even his feet couldn’t stay still, as restless as his pulse, drumming in his chest.

The tent flap opened, and there stood Miss Cousland, looking almost sad.

“Is something wrong?” Alistair asked frantically, sitting up from his bedroll and half-heartedly reaching for his sword.

“I was just checking on your shoulder. You said… Wynne couldn’t quite heal it.”

“Oh, uh, it’s fine.” he said, moving his hand from the sword back to his shoulder. It was bandaged, but the bandages had soaked since then. Ellie shook her head like a scolding mother.

“You can’t leave them like that overnight.” she growled.

“What? What’s wrong with it?”

Ellie grunted, sitting down beside him and crossing her legs. She grabbed the bag beside him, determined to find some fresh bandages.

“It’ll be all gross in the morning, just let me redo it.” she insisted, getting everything she needed from his pack.

“I can do it, Ellie, just—”

“I’ve seen you try and bandage yourself,” she laughed, shoving his good arm, “Just let me do it.”

He rolled his eyes, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“How do you know how to do this anyway? You lived in a castle.”

Ellie smiled, gesturing for him to take his shirt off.

“I was taught a lot of useless crap, but this was one of the useful things.”

He took his shirt off over his head, bunching it up in his lap. For a moment, Ellie was frozen. _Damn._ He was… quite nice. She went silent as she started unravelling the blood soaked bandages left on his shoulder. He thought she was being careful to not hurt him, but really, she just didn’t want to touch his skin in fear that she might want a little _more_ touching.

“Does it hurt?” she asked, making conversation instead of making eye contact.

“Not really.” he answered truthfully. “Wynne fixed it up.”

“She’s good like that.”

Maker’s ass, this was an awkward conversation. Ellie readied the fresh bandages, beginning to wrap the three deep marks that hurlock had made.

“Lucky darkspawn is already in my blood, right?” he joked, smiling a moment before he twitched in pain.

“Sorry!” she apologised in a frantic whisper.

“That’s alright.” he chuckled.

They were silent for a while, Alistair watching Ellie’s delicate hands with a gentle gaze. She was sleepy and sore, as she was every night. Wound down the way someone was when they were in the middle of a good book.

“Do you think we’ll ever do this? _Really_ end the blight?” she asked, as it turned out, a lot less relaxed than she seemed. His eyes drifted up to hers.

“Of course I do.” he shrugged with one shoulder, “Who else is going to?”

Ellie smirked, not making eye contact.

“After that, chances are you’ll be the King of Ferelden.”

He cringed.

“Could you imagine it? Being surrounded by fancy-pants nobles _all_ the time? And all that pressure.” he rambled. “I’d hate it. Hate every minute of it. _Yes, King Alistair. Of course, King Alistair._ ”

“I suppose getting to sleep in a bed of roses every night wouldn’t be too bad.”

He paused, thinking of what it would be like sharing a bed with her. A _big_ bed – a bed with silky smooth sheets and an unnecessary amount of pillows.

“You’d find yourself a queen,” Ellie continued, “either that, or have one assigned to you in secret.”

She rolled her eyes. Alistair let out a nervous chuckle as she finished up the bandages.

“I’d prefer to choose my own queen, really.”

Ellie finished up the bandage with a hook to keep it together and bundled up the bloodied one.

“Have anyone in mind?” she joked, her heart sinking from embarrassment. Why did she say that?

He laughed and rubbed the back of his neck, unintentionally showing off that wonderfully muscular arm. She was once again reminded of how very shirtless he was.

“You know, maybe I’d give her a rose first.” he said, looking at the ground. Shy like a child. “One I picked from Lothering. Maybe a bit of dog drool on it. Her name would rhyme with _Smelly Foots-gland!”_

Ellie broke into laughter, covering her mouth the way her parents taught her.

“How does ‘Cous’ rhyme with ‘Foot’!?”

Alistair finally made eye contact with her with the happiest, brightest eyes in Thedas.

“I was put on the spot! Not much rhymes with Cousland!”

They’d probably woken half the camp with their laughter by the time they’d settled down, but neither of them cared. So much of their lives was miserable, but at night when it seemed to slow down, they had a gap in between to find some happiness with each other.

“So, you think I’d be a good queen?” Ellie smiled, sitting with her legs crossed and both hands in her lap. He became nervous again, searching for a distraction.

“A lot better than I’d be.” he said, “Imagine _me_ trying to squish myself into a corset!”

“Yes, but you’d have to deal with _me_ at your side.” she giggled. “And the cheeses you’d be able to eat!”

He paused for a moment, scratching his arm anxiously.

“I think I could handle that.”

She smiled, leaning forward just a little.

“Me or the cheese?”

He sat up from his leant back position, very quickly realising how close that made them. On the tip of his tongue, so much pleaded to be said.

“You.”

Timidly she brushed her hand over his shoulder, pretending to make sure the bandage was on right. Expecting him to reel away, he instead got a little closer, tilting his head to catch her eyes. Seemingly without his permission, his hand reached up to her face, brushing hair from her brow and caressing her cheek.

“I’m not going to lie to you, Ellie.” he breathed, almost stuttered. “I _really_ want to kiss you.”

She smiled, exchanging glances for just a moment.

“How long have you _really_ wanted to kiss me?” she asked, just as timid.

“Before the rose. Before… a lot, actually.” he admitted. “How long have you wanted to kiss _me_?”

She laughed, “What makes you think I want to kiss you?”

“Your lips are doing this puckering thing and I don’t think you know you’re doing it.”

They laughed together, her free hand accidentally finding itself on his thigh, but remaining there.

“So… am I allowed?” he whispered, his heart racing. _Maker’s breath, her smile._

“Of course—”

A boot kicked into the side of the tent, the fabric rippling all over. Both of their hands had retracted, Ellie nearly flinging herself to the other side of the tent just so she didn’t get caught.

“Your shift, Alistair.” Morrigan ordered from outside.

“Right.” Alistair responded, grabbing for his shirt. “Sure thing.”

Ellie frowned, watching as he very reluctantly left.


	9. Still Allowed

Morrigan was staring at Ellie, her eyes squinted and suspicious.

“Are you aware that you’re smiling?” she asked. Ellie corrected her smile, and only then noticed her cheeks hurting.

“No, sorry, I was just… thinking about something.”

“Not much to think about that’s happy.” she responded, “The blight, the archdemon, the sleeping on damp ground…?”

She circled around Ellie like a wolf, and stood next to her looking even more curious.

“What’s so wrong with me being happy?” Ellie argued, continuing to flick mud from her boots with a twig.

“Nothing.” Morrigan responded with a casual shrug, “I’m glad, in fact. I just can’t see why you would be.”

“You know exactly why, Morrigan.” Leliana said, making herself seen from where she’d been standing behind them. “Stop teasing her.”

Morrigan smiled, turning on her heel without another word, and returning to her tent far from the middle of the camp.

“You still won’t admit it, will you?” Leliana said, smirking. “Because it’s painfully obvious to everyone else.”

Ellie looked back to her boots, blushing.

“I feel like such a child.” she chuckled, “My brother would be making fun of me nonstop if he were here.”

Leliana laughed with her, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Well, just know that I appreciate any gossip you’re willing to share.” she giggled. Ellie knew well now that Leliana was more than just a smile and a giggle. She was clever – more so than anyone she could ever recall meeting. The kind of person that seemed so sweet and innocent up until they knew enough about you to put a knife in your back. But even then, she trusted her.

“We almost kissed last night.”

Leliana gasped, “Really? What stopped you?”

“Morrigan.” Ellie sighed, “She didn’t mean it, though.” she shook her head, rubbing mud off her hands and onto her tunic. “He was so nervous, and I was… just about to explode. I’m almost glad it didn’t happen, I probably would have missed.”

“It’s cute.” Leliana grinned, genuine in everything she said. “The last Grey Wardens, who can fight darkspawn fearlessly, but cannot muster up the courage to tell one another the truth.”

Ellie flicked some mud at her playfully.

“You make it sound like a romance novel.”

Leliana twirled at the braid in her hair and turned to leave.

“Oh, _I_ had nothing to do with that part.”

* * *

Alone and drowsy from a night of fractured sleep, Ellie rubbed her eyes. In the middle of a yawn, she felt a gentle grip on her hand and was quickly tugged inside her tent, smacking her forehead on the supports.

“Oh!” Alistair shouted, “Sorry! I was trying to be romantic!”

Ellie laughed hysterically, rubbing the new mark on her forehead.

“It’s okay, Alistair.” she said, opening her eyes. He smiled, relieved, realising he was still holding onto her hand. She didn’t mind, squeezing onto it just as he was about to pull away. “Maybe you should tell me to duck before you pull me into my tent.”

“So you’re not against that part are you?” he smirked.

“No, I’m not.” she said with that goofy smile.

“Good.”

He pulled her close by her hand, inching forward until he could feel her foot at the side of his, and could place his hand to her smooth, freckled cheek. She gently moved her hand to his side, tilting her head slightly.

“Am I still allowed to kiss you?” he whispered, eyes mostly lidded, as he wrapped his other arm around her hip and the small of her back. She nodded, speechless within his arms. He hesitated, but she helped, pulling him towards her by his hips as he leant to her height. His lips were warm and soft, impossibly— _intoxicatingly—_ tender, as he pressed them to hers. Although they were unsure even to the touch, every second of it was bliss. His breath was shaky when he reluctantly broke the kiss, eyes opening ever so slowly.

“I, uh… that was nice…” he whispered, holding onto her tighter than he was in the beginning, with this dopey smile on his face that he couldn’t hide. She couldn’t contain her smile either, or part from this position, her chest on his. “It wasn’t too soon, was it?” he added.

“I don’t know… we’ll have to do some more testing to find out.”

He laughed, this time more confidently finding her lips, surprised to find them slightly parted. For a moment neither of them really knew what they were doing, until Alistair calmed, fingers kneading into her hips and lips teasing hers. She ended up clinging onto his tunic, pressing herself against him as they kissed, her heart drumming against her chest.

He mumbled something, moving his lips from hers, one hand discreetly adjusting the crotch of his pants.

“Is something wrong?” she whispered, releasing her grasp on him and stepping back. He was suddenly cold without her against him, feeling vulnerable with that bulge in his pants. He prayed she didn’t look.

“No, no, nothing’s wrong.” he babbled, holding her hand again in an effort to pull her back. She slung her hands back around his waist, smiling for just a moment until she felt it against her lower belly. She squinted, moving side to side just to work out if it _really was_ what she thought it was. Alistair blushed, waiting for her to shove him back and storm out of the tent. Instead, her smile returned.

“I’m _so_ sorry.” he apologised, frantically asking himself what he should do.

“It’s fine,” she said, plating a single, chaste kiss to his lips. “I’d have one too, in your position.” It was the least sexy thing she could have said, and she knew, but it made them laugh. “We should go, we have… stuff to do.”

He watched with wildly tingling lips as she left, only breaking eye contact at the last second. He could tell she didn’t really want to leave. Instead of following, he stood inside where nobody could see him and covered his face in his hands, just about ready to jump around in excitement. Any more of that and his heart would have given out.

_She kissed me!_


	10. First Time

Every now and then, while eating their dinner, Ellie and Alistair’s eyes would meet from across the campfire, and they’d smile like idiots. She couldn’t breathe every time he smiled, while the orange light of the fire danced across his beautifully handsome face. She would have given anything to kiss him again, slip away like they’d been doing for the past weeks, just to hold one another close, like frenzied teenagers. His fingers in curls of her hair, her hands grasped tightly on his shirt, and lips just as inexperienced as hers. He was no knight in shining armour like the tales, but she wouldn’t have him any other way.

She turned away smiling, looking at her feet where Cujo was laid out on his side with his belly facing the fire. Maker’s breath, they’d been doing this all day. Looking at each other briefly, sometimes accidentally, and then quickly correcting their sights on something else as if they weren’t both horribly smitten. Leliana was watching from the side-lines, quietly smug. Nobody had to tell her anything for her to know what was going on. By the time it was only her and the remaining Grey Wardens, she made it clear that she was going to bed, planting the usual friendly kiss on the top of Ellie’s head and waving to Alistair with a smile she faked so well.

And then it was just the two of them.

Alistair sat nervously in place, more pressure on him now that everyone was gone. All he wanted to do was ask her, just one question.

“Ellie, can we talk?”

Her head snapped upwards, eyes big and terrified.

“No! Not in a _bad_ way.” he corrected himself, standing up involuntarily. He moved – nearly tiptoed – to her and sat beside her. “I should have said that differently. Everything kind of… comes out muddled when I speak.”

She smiled, relieved. “What do you want to talk about?”

He rubbed his knees almost frantically, his cheeks hot enough to fry eggs on. He laughed, but it did nothing to hide how scared he was whenever they were alone.

“I just… want you to know that every time you’re close to me I just…” he paused, trying to get his train of thought back. He sighed in frustration. “You’d think it would be easier, but every time I’m around you I feel like my head’s about to explode, I-I can’t think straight.”

Her brow furrowed and her eyes seemed to narrow, as if she were trying to read his thoughts. But she was so beautiful, and for a moment he couldn’t speak. His throat just went dry.

“I get that, too.” she admitted.

“I… I wanted to wait for the right time to ask but it always seems _wrong_ so I’m just going to anyway.” he said, closing his eyes like he was bracing for impact. “I want to spend the night with you.”

When he opened his eyes again, she was just watching, an emotion somewhere between flattered and surprised on her face.

“I thought…”

“Don’t worry about it.” he interrupted, frowning. “I’m here, feeling like I’m all _hands_ , asking this beautiful woman at my side to come clumsily fall into bed with me, and – _oh_ that was a disgusting way to word it, I— _mmph_ ”

With a finger on his jawline she moved his head to hers, capturing his lips before he spoke another word. Not even a second needed to pass before he found his way, his hand searching out hers as she pressed against him. Their fingers intertwined, and it occurred to Ellie that it was the first time they’d held hands. It felt perfect, sliding her little fingers between his much larger ones, the rough skin against her palm reminding her of who he was. _A warrior,_ believe it or not.

She stood up and tugged him by the hand towards her tent.

“I’m not too confident either.” she whispered, walking backwards as she led him. The smile on his face was priceless, the goofiness of it rivalling her own. She tripped, distracted by his smile, and fell backwards for a second before he caught her, laughing childishly.

“How long _you_ been walking?” he teased.

“Shh!” she scolded with a giggle, crouching into the privacy of the tent. He was grinning like a fool when they entered, his hand firm but gentle around hers. Maker, none of this seemed real. When she turned back to face him he felt paralyzed. He chuckled nervously and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

“You’re certain you want to… with _me?_ ” he asked once more, just in case. She cradled his face lightly and kissed him into silence, her heart jumping when he touched her. His hands rested on her hips and lower back, carefully finding the bottom of her shirt and lifting it just slightly. His heart raced. _All hands,_ he reminded himself, because that’s exactly what it felt like. _I’m not doing it wrong, am I? Is this what she wants me to do?_ No matter how many times he’d kissed her – which wasn’t many – _all hands._

But there was something comforting about it that she couldn’t explain. She’d experienced love, she’d seen the expressions of others’ lust, but this was so different. He just wanted, so badly, to touch her.

She pressed up against him when he brushed against the bare skin of her hips, urging him to go further. He held onto her, almost tight, and sunk into her embrace. Cautiously he let his hands travel upwards underneath her shirt, and Maker’s breath, her skin was _impossibly_ smooth. He could feel every little motion in her body and how much heat she gave off, and he craved her madly.

She broke their kiss, both of their eyes opening slowly and in a daze.

“C’mon…” she whispered, backing towards the bedroll laid out on the ground. He reluctantly took his grip off her body and followed her to the bed, kneeling as she sat down, and once again not knowing what to do. With her arm over his shoulder she guided him down, letting him lay over her, hinting for another kiss – but he didn’t. He blinked and stared, and smiled before he realised he’d paused.

“You are so beautiful.” he whispered, putting his weight on his forearm and tucking a strand of curls behind her ear. She smiled and laughed quietly, hooking a finger at the collar of his shirt. “Should I… undress?” he muttered.

“I’ll help.” she offered, sitting up just a little to pull it over his head. It slipped off, only getting caught on his ear for a second—she snickered at how cute it was—and he threw it aside. He crawled smoothly over her, his chest lightly against her breasts but too shy to really touch. She gasped silently as her heart jumped wildly into her throat at the sight; perfectly sculpted muscles, light blonde hair down his forearms, and best of all, underneath his navel. She half-heartedly scolded herself for wondering how far those hairs went down.

“Is… something wrong?” he said with those scared puppy dog eyes.

“No! No, you just have… quite a nice body.” she responded, putting him immediately at ease. He smiled, stroking upwards underneath her shirt over her belly, rising and falling erratically with each breath. She arched her back and slid her shirt up and over her shoulders, tossing it aside as he’d done, and now it was Alistair that was googly-eyed. With a brief look of ‘ _can I?’_ and a short nod of approval from Ellie, he slipped off the band covering her breasts.

She took in a deep breath, perky breasts completely exposed in the lantern light, and Alistair was stunned. Gods, she was nervous. Nobody had ever seen her naked this way, and the bright blush on his cheeks growing redder made it all worse.

“Are you sure you aren’t actually a goddess and you haven’t told me?” he laughed, leaning down to kiss her. In between playful smooches she responded with a giggly “Not that I know of.”

He smirked, incredibly aroused by just the feeling of her bare breasts on his chest as they kissed. The bulge between his legs grew tighter against his pants, which only reminded him – those need to come off, too. She knew it as well, her fingers cleverly finding their way around his belt. It was off in just a moment and for a second he wondered if her roguish skills gave her an upper hand when it came to belt buckles and buttons. It was irrelevant the second she nudged the bulge with her thigh.

“M-Maker,” he breathed, fingers tightening at the fabric of the bedroll until his knuckles were white. Slowly, brushing the backs of her hands along the plane of his stomach and the oddly attractive hair underneath his navel, she went for the buttons of his pants. He swayed his hips a little, not sure if he should help or just watch her expression – her lip bitten, eyes watching with interest as if she wasn’t sure what to expect. Even he wasn’t sure what to expect out of this night with her.

His pants slipped off and he sprung free, embarrassed by his erection the moment it was visible. He was tempted to hide it the whole night, so she didn’t see… just in case. She cleared her throat and he panicked at the thought – _is there something wrong with it?_

“You’re quite large…” she smiled, kicking away his pants.

“I am?” he squeaked, “I mean – _I am!_ ” he corrected in the manliest voice he could muster. They laughed as she undid her own buttons, Alistair kissing at her neck with a relieved smile on his face. Relieved as he was, he still wanted to hide.

She smelled wonderful, which was a miracle. All the fighting and sweating they did, and she still smelled as pretty as she looked. He got carried away, sliding his hands down the side of his body as he kissed down her collar bones, between her breasts, over her nipple, and down her belly. She sucked in a stuttered breath at eat delicate kiss, letting him remove her pants and under-things without any assistance.

“Alistair,” she moaned, tingling in all the right places. He smiled proudly through fear, crawling his way back over her until he met her lips once more. She was intoxicated, in love with his lips and the subtle pressure of his erection on her.

“I um, need some help.” he whispered, giggling nervously.

“…Taking aim?” she whispered back, fingers running through his hair. He leant into her hand and smiled.

“A little bit.”

With a leg on either side of him she let her hand venture down between them, easily finding his erection gently pressed up against her.

“I-I-I don’t want to mess up.” he said as her fingers lightly stroked him, looking right into her eyes. Seeing the fear, she leant up to kiss him.If only he knew how strange it felt to actually touch him like this, but exhilarating all the same.

“Here.” she guided with her sweet little voice, putting him in the right place. “R-right there.”

With all the awkwardness in the world he gently pressed into her, terrified that somehow, even with her guidance, he’d screw up. He watched her eyes as he thrust into her slowly, her lip clamping between her teeth again. A harsh exhale escaped her, and he curled her hair back behind her ear with a gentle sweep.

“Did I hurt you?”

His voice is panicked and flustered, and she smiles.

“No, Alibear, I promise you.”

He smiled in return, kissing along her neck lovingly and then on her ear as he slid almost entirely out, before thrusting carefully back in. She squirmed underneath his body, arms across his back to hold him close, lips in the muscled spot between his shoulder and neck.

“Ali—” she whimpers, and for the first time he doesn’t have to question whether that’s pleasure or pain. He attempts to control his breathing, but if anything it only turns her on having his breath hot and shaky at her ear. “Keep going.”

He does, increasing his speed only slightly, holding her hand tenderly, and squeezing it during a particularly erratic thrust. She moans into his neck and wraps her legs over his waist, shifting herself underneath him, hungrily looking for release. Shamefully, he’s almost there already. She’s warm, wet, and so incredibly different to how he’d thought it’d feel. Nothing like his own hand or desperate imagination.

“I’m—” he tries to speak as she rolls her hips into him.

“Shh _hhit_ —same _._ ” she struggles, amazed at how quick that was. Everything she’d ever heard about this kind of thing, or at least the _first_ ‘this kind of thing’, was that it was an awful, painful experience. But Alistair was slow and careful, soft with each touch, and Maker, she want to be in his arms every waking hour.

She rolls her hips hard against him for one last time, enough to send her plummeting off the edge. He feels her parted lips against his skin and a long moan of pleasure slide blissfully from her tongue, which he knows will be the end of him. She clenches around him, and he squeezes her hand tight, broken by the throbbing of her climax. He gives in, wrapping an arm under her back, arching it up, and driving into her one last time. She almost squeals, pushing him further with his legs around his waist, and he’s gone.

He shudders against her with his arm under her back so that there’s no gap between them, his other hand occupied by hers.

“Maker’s breath,” he sighs, “I-I’m sorry, I—”

She finds his lips and consumes them whole heartedly, teasing his tongue with hers and getting a smile out of it. He laughs into the kiss, as does she, and in that bubble they share, time has stopped. No darkspawn. No Archdemon. Just the last two Wardens, joined in a way that neither of them expected.

He rests his forehead on hers, enjoying the sweet sound of her laughter, absently cleaning them up.

“I hope nobody heard.” he whispers. “They’ll talk, you know.”

She nods with closed, weary eyes and puts her hand to his chest. She can feel his heart racing underneath, and smiles a little wider. _Even her teeth are cute!_

“Worth every second.”

He snorts, kissing her nose.

“You know, according to all the sisters at the monastery, I should have been struck by lightning by now.”

She giggled and rolled into his side, pulling a blanket over their bodies and cuddling up to him.

“Mmm… I can imagine.”

“It wasn’t enough to scare me off you, though.” he joked, resting on his side to cuddle her up close. He can’t believe his luck when she snuggles into his chest, poking his foot with her own. Nothing could be cuter than Ellie Cousland at this moment, when she rubs her eyes like a child, before putting her fists up over her mouth to warm her fingers.

“Alistair…” she yawns, her leg finding its way between his.

“Yee _eee_ s?”

It hits her like a ton of bricks. _I love you._ After a moment of silence he runs his fingers through her hair, resting his chin on the top of her head.

“Ellie?”

“I think… nothing.”

“Okay?”

She laughs a little deliriously at the realisation, not having the courage to tell him.

“Goodnight, Alibear.”


	11. Good Morning

Alistair woke up and for a moment believed he was in his own tent. Instead, he was sharing the tiny space with Ellie in her tent, and Maker, his heart jumped out of his chest. She was nestled up with her little button nose on his collar bone, one leg wrapped around his, and her arms folded up between them for warmth. For a long while he was too scared to breathe in fear of waking her up, losing the precious moment he had just watching her.

She was like something not of this world, he thought. Something he never deserved. Lucky just to walk in her shadow. With a gentle smile he moved her hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. His heart sunk at the thought of her waking up and regretting ever allowing him this close, and he took back his hand as if nothing had happened.

Behind her, something stirred. From under the crumpled blanket at her back, Cujo lifted his head, sniffing the air. From the movement Ellie stirred, her eyes moving under their lids. _Damn it._ She rubbed her eyes with her whole fists and yawned like a child. Alistair chuckled to himself, nervous to touch her.

“What are you laughing at, Alibear?” she grinned, eyes fluttering open.

“You’re just… really cute.” he answered truthfully. She stretched out like a cat, putting her arms straight out over his shoulder, then wrapping around his neck to pull herself close to his lips. Tired and in love, as she’d only realised the night before, she pressed her lips to his, feeling his smile and his hands touch her hips. Cujo stood and sniffed his way out of the tent, probably looking to steal a treat from someone with food.

“So, you’re not going to regret everything we did and kick me out?” Alistair half-joked between lazy little kisses. She pulled her head back and gave him a serious look, lips still slightly puckered.

“You didn’t think I’d really do that, did you?” she asked, her hair splayed out over the pillow.

“It’s… possible.” he admitted, shrugging. She could have rolled her eyes, but instead, smooched up to him once more. He moaned slightly into her lips, pressure building where he didn’t need it. Not right now, at least.

She stroked her index finger over the short, prickly hairs of his chin and smiled.

“I can’t believe I’m this lucky.” she sighed happily.

“Ah yes,” he said smugly in a strong and heroic voice, eyelids fluttering, “for I am of only the most noble and beautiful man in Ferelden, you are privileged to sleep with me!”

Ellie snorted and covered her mouth with her hand, which was a damn shame. She had the most perfect smile.

“You snorted!” he laughed, pointing lazily at her.

“Oh, Prince Alistair,” she said placing the back of her hand dramatically to her forehead. “For I am nothing if not grateful to be one of your many women! Pray to the Maker that the devilishly handsome Prince will look my way once more!”

They both laughed, Alistair holding her in his arms and rolling her onto her back, caging her under his wonderfully solid body.

“More like pray I don’t become king.” He giggled. Ellie took his face with her hands, squishing his lips together like a fish.

“It’s okay, Alistair. If I have my say in anything, I’ll keep you from being king.”

“Rearry?” he asked, not able to speak with his lips all fish-like.

“Yes, rearry.” she mimicked, smiling. After a moment of thought he spoke again.

“I may want to kith you.”

“I may want you to.”

She slid her hands from his face to around his back, the freckles of his shoulders like stars underneath her fingertips. He smiled the squish out of his lips and leant down to her, their chests against one another, warm and inviting. Outside the tent heavy boots hit the ground, getting closer. If either Ellie or Alistair were aware of anything other than each other, they might have heard Sten get to the opening of their tent and pull up the flap.

“I was told to get you out of bed, Warden… _Wardens._ ” he corrected himself. Alistair quickly rolled off of Ellie the moment he realised, covering himself up with blankets and almost squealing.

“Th-that’s fine!” Ellie answered a little too loudly, lifting sheets up onto her naked breasts. She was vaguely aware of how cold she was without Alistair on her. Sten stood a little too long at the tent opening, maybe because he didn’t understand what was happening, or why it was rude to interrupt. “Please leave, Sten!” she said awkwardly, and with a nod he backed away, the flap falling back closed.

Alistair covered his face with both his hands, incredibly embarrassed and now horribly self-conscious about his body. He’d completely forgotten until now that he was naked - and not just to Ellie, but to everyone. He didn't even like sleeping nude in fear someone might see him.

“You alright?” Ellie started snickering. He smiled underneath his hands, parting his fingers to peer at her through them.

“I guess they’ll know now.” he said, and uncovered his face. She moved towards him, leaning over his lips that were slightly—and subconsciously— puckered in advance. She kissed him once more, and it was _meant_ to be the last time before she got up to get dressed and throw on her armour. Somewhere in between that thought and another their tongues had met, she became weak, and she couldn’t move more than kiss him and forget, moving one leg between his.

He took a deep breath, his heart racing, while his hand slipped up her forearm. _I shouldn’t be doing this we should be getting ready to go._ But her thigh was touching the growing hardness between his own, and Maker, he’d give anything to stay.

Cujo came bounding into the tent, grunting and making noises in the way he only did when he was looking for attention. He fell heavy against the Wardens in a ‘ _love me!’_ kind of way a young child would when their parents weren’t up yet.

“Cujo!” she scolded, laughing. That was all it took to get them out of bed, but it didn’t stop them from longing to be alone together all day.


End file.
